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Poem by Elizabeth Barrett-Browning
Sonnets from the Portuguese. 30. I see thine image through my tears to-night
I see thine image through my tears to-night, And yet to-day I saw thee smiling. How Refer the cause?—Belovëd, is it thou Or I, who makes me sad? The acolyte Amid the chanted joy and thankful rite May so fall flat, with pale insensate brow, On the altar-stair. I hear thy voice and vow, Perplexed, uncertain, since thou art out of sight, As he, in his swooning ears, the choir’s amen. Belovëd, dost thou love? or did I see all The glory as I dreamed, and fainted when Too vehement light dilated my ideal, For my soul’s eyes? Will that light come again, As now these tears come—falling hot and real?
Elizabeth Barrett-Browning's other poems:
English Poetry. E-mail firstname.lastname@example.org